“As if ye have any.” Belle rolled her eyes.
Henry caught hold of Belle’s chin and turned her to face him. His gaze was soft, and Laura felt the need to look away from the intimacy.
“Ye greatly underestimate yer appeal, Wife,” he promised. “To a very large degree.”
When Belle was left blushing and clearing her throat, Laura tried to understand the sweet awkwardness and offered a change of conversation.
“I am sure a lifetime of practice would see ye just as proficient, sister of mine.” She smiled. “Ye forget that I have had exactly that.”
Unlike Belle, Laura and her brother had been raised in moderate wealth. Exposed to the education and society manners court reserved for the higher echelons of society, they had each been raised with specific rules and expectations in mind. Laura more so than Henry.
After all, being female was an art in and of itself. The satisfaction of others, made into practice.
It was the specialty of the fairer sex to bend to the will of family, loved ones, confidants, and potential husbands. To be female was to be courteous to the point of self-denial.
Some of the wilder characters in court would deny such logic; they would preach to a woman’s fiery character and responsibility for contrariness. But the rules of the world had removed Belle’s decisions from her, and here she was, joyous in the extreme. She had been given no choice in becoming her father’s heir when he had lain dying without a successor. She had been forced into a role for which she had not volunteered.
Now, it did not seem possible for two people to be happier. It was examples like these that had led to the decision Laura had finally made.
“Brither…” Only when Henry looked up from his plate did Laura continue. She wished to have Henry’s full attention. “Would ye do something for me?”
“Ye have only to ask, sister.”
There was no hesitation in her brother’s promise. Not even a question as to her request. Warmth filled Laura’s chest. She truly was lucky in her family: her brother, upon whom she could depend, and the happy memories she had collected of her parents for as long as she had been allowed.
“Would ye arrange a betrothal for me?”
Both Henry and Belle paused in their meal. They looked to each other and then to Laura, as if unsure that they had heard her correctly.
“A…betrothal?” Henry asked.
“Aye. To wed.” Laura nodded. “I think I would like to be married.” When the both of them could only continue to stare, her smile broadened. “The two o’ ye make it look so fine, ye can hardly be surprised at my curiosity.”
Belle’s eyes brightened in pleasure. It was rare that her position in the world was held up as a point of envy. Laura could tell that she was flattered.
Henry, on the other hand, was looking at his sister as if the world had suddenly begun to spin backward. A furrow appeared between his brows, and he watched her with a suspect look of misgiving.
“Ye wish for an arranged match, Sister?” he repeated. “But ye receive many offers so regularly, always askin’ me to turn them down on your behalf. Ye always seemed... I had no thought ye would wish for it.”
Her brother’s struggle for the right words was understandable. And appreciated. While it had been many years since Laura's heart had been so badly broken, it was still painful to discuss the details of such a time. Since then, for the last five years, Henry had tenderly avoided the subject of marriage and had never pushed her to find a suitor.
“Ye’ve had such an offer of late?” Laura asked, finding herself surprisingly curious.
“Several,” Henry said, still frowning. “More so since Belle and I were married.”
Again, the fairer sex was used as a portal of male means. Laura knew that her new connection to the Henderson clan, through her brother, would rouse further interest in her hand. She could neither deny nor judge the monetary component of marriage. Nor the social expectations that formed it.
She had revolted against such logic only once. And it had brought her misery.
Perhaps what she needed was to allow the fates to choose her path. To follow the guidance of her own sex and play the game of life as it was intended. Belle and Henry had done so. And here they were with nothing but joy in their lives.
Despite a mistrust of men that still lingered in the corners of Laura’s heart and mind, she held a fresh hope. Hope that happiness might once again be within reach.
“Who is the best suitor, d’ye think, Brother? Someone to protect our borders to the east or the west? Could ye no’ extend them an invitation?” The questions flowed from Laura in a rapid anxiety to reach her shining, imagined future.
The idea that marriage might offer her liberty bolstered her interest tenfold.
As her brother’s ward, Laura moved from the north to the south depending on his duties. Some seasons were spent in the Lowlands with the Anderson clan, where her guardianship was divided between Henry and their paternal figure, Laird Anderson. They bore not his name nor his blood, but Laird Anderson was family in all the ways that mattered, taking them in after the death of their parents. There, however, Laura was the figure of idle gossip. The source of whispers.
